


Mid-Great Dane Short

by celluloidbroomcloset



Category: The Avengers (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 23:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17213135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celluloidbroomcloset/pseuds/celluloidbroomcloset
Summary: Set during the episode "Death of a Great Dane." Steed reflects on a shift in his relationship with Cathy.





	Mid-Great Dane Short

It had been so…good. He knew it would be, but his imagination had simply not compared to the real thing. The way she moved, the way she smelled, the strength of her body, her hands in his hair, on his back, the taste of her mouth. The sounds she made. He was usually able to please women—it was a source of pride, with a touch of egotism. But there was as much pleasure in giving pleasure; he’d learned that a long time ago. And he fancied he could tell when a woman wasn’t enjoying herself. He knew when to stop and when to go on and when maybe the whole thing was a wash and a bad idea, and he didn’t begrudge that. But he’d been a little bit afraid with her; that maybe she was one of those women who didn’t really enjoy sex. But she did. Oh, she did. 

He was always conscientious. What was needed, what wasn’t. But they were in her apartment, and she’d been a widow for some time. He didn’t know how many lovers she’d had between her husband’s death and him. It would’ve been very annoying to have to go out to the chemist’s, but he’d be willing to. It turned out that it wasn’t necessary. She was prepared. He wondered whether it was just normal preparation for any modern woman, or if she’d known, when she came back from her trip, that things would eventually come to this pass. 

There were a lot of things he didn’t know, now, and he wasn’t sure how to ask her. Asking too much would break this tenuous connection they had. She seemed to feel it, too. They didn’t speak afterward; just lay there, breathing together. But he’d seen her face, and the look in her eyes. She’d felt the same thing he had. 

After they dressed and went back out to the sitting room, he’d felt weirdly shy, like he had once or twice as a much younger man. She was so smart, and beautiful, and when she relaxed and let go…so intense. Passionate. Not cold at all. He’d been tempted to knock out Chalmers, who’d called her the Ice Queen. Yes, maybe to men like Chalmers, who thought women were there for decoration, she would be cold. But not to him. 

All he wanted, right then, was to be close to her, whatever that meant. It didn’t matter if they were in bed or in public or, as they now were, sitting in her living room with the record player going and the lights down low. If he’d dared, he would have held her hand, but even now that felt like an imposition. Maybe, in time, it wouldn’t.


End file.
